I saw a scrap of a document from Shakespeare's own time accusing him of rank pretension for having the nerve to stage plays in a London that already had playwrights like Marlowe and Ben Johnson. And him just a lowly glover's son and disreputable actor himself!

On the other hand, how often does someone as talented and revolutionary as Shakespeare come out of the established order? Try reading Marlowe today. It's like a literary cinnamon challenge.

I saw a scrap of a document from Shakespeare's own time accusing him of rank pretension for having the nerve to stage plays in a London that already had playwrights like Marlowe and Ben Johnson. And him just a lowly glover's son and disreputable actor himself!

On the other hand, how often does someone as talented and revolutionary as Shakespeare come out of the established order? Try reading Marlowe today. It's like a literary cinnamon challenge.

I question the sublime wisdom hidden in his tales. Romeo & Juliet is some industrial strength stuff.

No way in Hell did William Shakespeare write his plays. The vocabulary is too grand for a bumpkin to execute.

Well, I'm country-style, and I says we're pretty damned smart.

Ma' double-barrel says I'm right...

More specifically, no particular trait makes someone capable or not, of any given ability.

And, in contradiction, Shakespeare's plays weren't exactly the way thy were written, per se. Once they performed a play, the pages were often thrown away. The written versions were taken down later, from memory of the actors who portrayed the characters. No telling what changed in there.

Q_C

__________________
Suddenly the lights go out
Let forever drag me down
I will fight for one last breath
I will fight until the end

And I will find the enemy within
'Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin

Dear agony, just let go of me
Suffer slowly, is this the way it's got to be?
Don't bury me, faceless enemy
I'm so sorry, is this the way it's got to be, dear agony?

More specifically, no particular trait makes someone capable or not, of any given ability.

And, in contradiction, Shakespeare's plays weren't exactly the way thy were written, per se. Once they performed a play, the pages were often thrown away. The written versions were taken down later, from memory of the actors who portrayed the characters. No telling what changed in there.

Q_C

I'd like someone to define COUNTRY-STYLE one of these days. I think it means, I WASTE LOTSA MONEY ON CRAP, RENT A TRAILER BY THE WEEK, AND FUCK MY SISTER. Drinkin is about all country boys know how to do.

Ummm I aint bettin my farm on no dude from the sticks. I mean, Lincolns come along, but the Real Shakespeare was likely someone with better schooling, well traveled, and experienced in the ways of the mighty.

I'd like someone to define COUNTRY-STYLE one of these days. I think it means, I WASTE LOTSA MONEY ON CRAP, RENT A TRAILER BY THE WEEK, AND FUCK MY SISTER. Drinkin is about all country boys know how to do.

There was literally nothing to that. I can't even see a second stereotype piled on the first one. Us country-style folk, we step in horseshit more valuable than any of what was written above. I'm hoping this was sarcasm or some other bad attempt at humor.

Quote:

Ummm I aint bettin my farm on no dude from the sticks. I mean, Lincolns come along, but the Real Shakespeare was likely someone with better schooling, well traveled, and experienced in the ways of the mighty.

The founders of the US were almost all farmers. Sounds pretty country to me. Currently, the US government is comprised of approximately 500 people who no doubt have better schooling and are better traveled and experienced in the ways of the mighty, and they're struggling to finish the book they started three years ago. The Idiots Guide to Picking Your Own Nose.

If they work in teams I doubt they'll get past Chapter Four.

I figure one of three things instituted your response:

1. That humor that was poorly executed, as mentioned above.

2. You're the real Wilford Brimley and your brain is losing the battle with Dia-Beetus.

3. You're clueless.

Q_C

__________________
Suddenly the lights go out
Let forever drag me down
I will fight for one last breath
I will fight until the end

And I will find the enemy within
'Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin

Dear agony, just let go of me
Suffer slowly, is this the way it's got to be?
Don't bury me, faceless enemy
I'm so sorry, is this the way it's got to be, dear agony?

There was literally nothing to that. I can't even see a second stereotype piled on the first one. Us country-style folk, we step in horseshit more valuable than any of what was written above. I'm hoping this was sarcasm or some other bad attempt at humor.

The founders of the US were almost all farmers. Sounds pretty country to me. Currently, the US government is comprised of approximately 500 people who no doubt have better schooling and are better traveled and experienced in the ways of the mighty, and they're struggling to finish the book they started three years ago. The Idiots Guide to Picking Your Own Nose.

If they work in teams I doubt they'll get past Chapter Four.

I figure one of three things instituted your response:

1. That humor that was poorly executed, as mentioned above.

2. You're the real Wilford Brimley and your brain is losing the battle with Dia-Beetus.

I think he's got a point, but if someone ever changes this up, I can't be responsible for my actions:

No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

I wonder if playwrights of the Renaissance era felt a weird sort of obligation to be the Dr. Phil of their era, to dispense a sort of common psychological wisdom to the masses. I guess that would account for some of the "hearth wisdom" tidbits of insight they provide, while being no more accurate or profound than two gossiping ladies talking across the fence.

I wonder if playwrights of the Renaissance era felt a weird sort of obligation to be the Dr. Phil of their era, to dispense a sort of common psychological wisdom to the masses. I guess that would account for some of the "hearth wisdom" tidbits of insight they provide, while being no more accurate or profound than two gossiping ladies talking across the fence.

What stuns me is that 'Shakespeare' grasped the human condition so well; I cant name anyone, with a wall fulla degrees, who knows a tenth as much. Its why I doubt Will as the real author. You can take any of his plays, costume them in modern garb, and have the same sublime truth.

I'd like someone to define COUNTRY-STYLE one of these days. I think it means, I WASTE LOTSA MONEY ON CRAP, RENT A TRAILER BY THE WEEK, AND FUCK MY SISTER. Drinkin is about all country boys know how to do.

Ummm I aint bettin my farm on no dude from the sticks. I mean, Lincolns come along, but the Real Shakespeare was likely someone with better schooling, well traveled, and experienced in the ways of the mighty.

Shakespeare grew up half a mile from a free grammar school taught by Oxford grads; as the son of an alderman he would have been allowed to study there. There doesn't seem to be any direct evidence either way on whether he actually did, but it's not much of a stretch to suppose that's where he learned the classics.

__________________
New for February 2015: The Wasp of St. Judith's. A night-shift nurse in a dementia ward, a burned-out old musician, and a new co-worker.

Shakespeare grew up half a mile from a free grammar school taught by Oxford grads; as the son of an alderman he would have been allowed to study there. There doesn't seem to be any direct evidence either way on whether he actually did, but it's not much of a stretch to suppose that's where he learned the classics.

To my way of thinking attributing all of Shakespeare's works to Shakespeare is about as plausible as attributing all of scientific discovery since 1600 to your local pharmacist.